


While This Curse Divine

by vealings



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Blood and Violence, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Multi, Soul Bond, Time Travel, Werewolf Mates
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-29
Updated: 2017-08-29
Packaged: 2018-12-21 06:35:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 797
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11938374
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vealings/pseuds/vealings
Summary: Hermione thought herself in a surreal dream, as she blinked up wearily at the alarmed face of Lily Potter...A Time-Travel AU where Hermione goes back to Marauder Era Hogwarts. Featuring Werewolf!Hermione, a nice slice of Remione, angsty moments and Marauder shenanigans.





	While This Curse Divine

 

Hermione thought herself in a surreal dream, as she blinked up wearily at the alarmed face of _**Lily Potter.**_..

  
“Fucking _hell_... are you alright?” The girl before her asked, pushing stray strands of red hair from her eyes.

Hermione could not find words, could only cough violently in response.

All breath and reason halted as she stared at those green eyes so familiar. They hadn't lied at how alike.

An utter shock of _green_.

It was _Lily Potter_ , she was sure of it; Harry’s mother, the woman who has been dead for years, was looking at her with eyes so very wide. Lily wore a terrified expression that she was sure mirrored her own.

The witch before her sprung into action, helping her get into a sitting position. In her frenzy, Hermione heard the girl murmur faint spells onto her, but she could not discern much else, her hearing muggy and drowning out.

“Here. Some water.” She finally heard Lily say a bit louder.

She felt the rim of a plastic bottle at her mouth and the cool water wash over her ragged throat but doing nothing to _soothe_ her _._

Her body felt tired and uneasy. Limbs weak and useless, like she hasn’t eaten in days. Simultaneously, she felt a strange, terrifying impulse. An impulse to tear apart, like she could dig and scratch and _ravage_ her nails deep into her own smooth, unbroken skin. Like she could do that for days. Like she could  _crave_  nothing more than a release, an absolution.

An ending.

A shrill scream invaded her ears, at the thought. And Hermione had the distinct notion that she was floating, air was passing around her. Her neck hung limply as she was moved and it was only getting colder and colder.

Lily was taking her somewhere.

“Shh. Please. You’ll be alright.” The other witches’ voice wavered uneasily. Hermione felt Lily place a shaky palm on her forehead. The touch felt cold, as her entire body boiled. And then she realized, with disturbing clarity, that the shrill scream she heard before was her own. The noise was so inhuman, that she couldn’t even register it as her own. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

_She was well and truly fucked._

Then felt a hand slip into hers and the feeling of a hard pull.

With that touch - grounding her - Hermione closed her eyes and wished, so very hard. Wished for the pain to end. And for things to start making sense, for explanation and detail and _control_. And fucking hell, she wished to be alive and at the Burrow and laughing around a dinner table with her family of friends once more. But at the same time, she longed to end, to _extinguish_.

Because of the dead faces she was forced to see, the life blinked out of their dull, loved eyes in an instant. Because of the impossibility of a group dinner, ever again.

None of it ended well, none of it ended _fairly_.

And she could _rage_ for it.

She was bought back at the sight of a pale, white light. The moon shone brightly, full and filled with promise and Hermione felt drawn to it and felt a sinking sensation when she realized what that implied. She cried out as she felt a violent shudder rip through her body, like a brilliant, raging reminder of the limited time she had left. _It_ was calling, the sensation singing through her blood.

The hand around hers tightened, gripping her in the present.

“Lily!” Hermione managed to choke out, finally, as if she had just emerged from a state of drowning, her throat burning fiercely.

 _Moon moon moon,_  She continued to rasp repeatedly, hoping that she was coherent enough so that Lily could understand. She needed to understand. The last of her strength went into squeezing the other witch's hand,  _Understand, please please understand..._

And then, her vision stuttered.

Black spots where there was only light before.

And the only sensation left was Lily’s hand, the only thing keeping her here.

 

She wished for a final thing.

For Lily Potter to be safe and sound. For Lily Potter to see a memory of hers that she kept near - that of her Harry, her best friend, giggling and waltzing with her in a tent. Laughter despite all the dark and terrible odds.

Odds that were never in the favor of her striving, ever brave best friend.

She finally prayed and hoped for Lily Potter to forgive her for not being able to protect him, to protect her son - the chosen one - from dying coldly in front of her very own eyes, at the hands of a hateful, inhuman murderer.

A laughing family dinner. Giggling in a tent.

_An utter shock of green._

And then she saw nothing else.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys! My first time posting fic, please be kind. Updating this sporadically. You know when you just sit down and write the fic that you have personally always wanted to read yourself? This is that for me. Cheers. 
> 
> Come talk @ dearvea.tumblr.com


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